


War Torn

by Curator



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cardassian War, DS9 s02 e15 Paradise, DS9 s05 e24 Empok Nor, Easter eggs to DS9 s02 e25 Tribunal and TNG s07 e15 Lower Decks, F/M, Gen, Mosaic, Pre-Canon, Prequel, Setlik III Massacre, TNG s04 e12 The Wounded, VOY episode: s04 e16 Prey, desperate people have one thing left -- their humanity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 15:36:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20438387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curator/pseuds/Curator
Summary: Though she’s nursing a broken heart, Lieutenant Kathryn Janeway talks her way onto a combat team to Setlik III — a mission that became famous within Starfleet for going horribly, horribly wrong. But, with her friend Miles O’Brien and others, Kathryn sees both the ugliness of war and the beauty of the Starfleet ideals she thinks she values.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Gratitude as powerful as a compression phaser rifle to cnroth for a knowledgeable and insightful beta.
> 
> * * *
> 
> This story has canon from four episodes across three series, plus some book canon and Easter eggs to two more episodes from two different series. I freaking love Star Trek.

**Prologue**

“Hey, Hairpins!” Miles O’Brien waved with the hand that wasn’t holding his darts. 

As the rec room doors swished closed behind her, Lieutenant Kathryn Janeway gave Miles a quick grin and a nod, then strode to the replicators against the wall. She grabbed a glass mug of synthehol beer from one of them and loudly demanded of the dozen or so officers enjoying their time off shift, “Who ordered this and didn’t bother to drink it?” 

There were shouts and points. Ensign Molly Walsh sheepishly raised her hand.

“Such a shame,” Kathryn drawled. She took a swig from the beer as crewmembers chortled and called out good-natured taunts at Molly, constantly forgetful Molly.

The rec room on the _Rutledge_ had 3D chess and other games traditional to Starfleet vessels. But the crew was overwhelmingly human and it just so happened most of those humans traced their ancestry to Ireland. They were jocular, quick to laugh and slow to leave to quarters at the end of a night. The dartboard was popular. The set of rings was well-loved. There were cards for Backgammon and a board for draughts. The pool table had scratches and dents. Kathryn leaned against it, her beer already half-drained.

“Fancy a game of pool, Songbird?” Kathryn called toward Miles at the dartboard.

While Kathryn’s nickname came from the pins that kept her long hair within regulations, Miles’ came from the day he sang the entire time the gang went kayaking on shore leave. It was reinforced when he played his cello for the group, which he did often.

“Oh no.” Miles shook his head. “I’m winning here. Find another mark.”

Miles was Kathryn’s friend, so surely he’d meant “mark” colloquially — as in “sucker.” After all, in the six months since she had come aboard the _Rutledge_, no one had beaten Kathryn at pool. Still, the room seemed to tilt and Kathryn’s beer shifted in its mug. 

“Hey,” Miles was by her side, grabbing her beer and setting it on the nearest table, “I’m sorry.”

He must have rushed over from the dartboard. Had anyone else noticed? A quick glance around assured Kathryn no one had. 

“It’s all right.” Kathryn took a deep breath. Steadied, she yelled, “Who wants to lose at pool?”

One of the other officers agreed to play. Kathryn set the balls, broke, and called solids. Miles went back to his game of darts with Will Kayden. Will’s nickname was Stompie, coined for the nurse’s heavy footfalls when he walked. The crew would joke even the biobeds trembled when Stompie was in sickbay.

“I said the wrong thing, didn’t I, Stompie?” Miles muttered.

“Yeah.” Will’s dart hit the center of the board. “You did.”

The comm system crackled. “All hands, this is Captain Maxwell. Battlestations.”

The rec room was empty in five seconds. The lights dimmed and turned red. Then, the ship shook with a blast of enemy fire. Kathryn’s half-full beer mug skittered off its table and broke into wet pieces on the floor.

**Chapter 1**

“Sir, if we could please discuss the admiral’s orders —”

“Not now, Janeway,” Captain Benjamin Maxwell ordered as they entered the turbolift. He faced forward. “Deck one.”

Kathryn pressed her lips together. She’d approached Captain Maxwell in the mess hall, asked to speak with him, and he had gotten up and walked away. She hadn’t known whether that was an invitation to follow him or a message that he wanted to be left alone. She was realizing it was the latter.

Fuck it. 

“Sir, since the Cardassians first fired on us two days ago, I’ve been trying to —”

“Computer, halt turbolift.”

They swayed at the sudden stop.

“Listen, Janeway,” the captain glared at her, his usual easygoing manner gone, “I don’t know why Admiral Paris’ orders specifically called for you to stay on the _Rutledge_, but the teams are set. And when we get to Setlik III, those teams are beaming down no matter how many Cardassians are on that planet. If you want to file a formal protest, do it.”

They both knew the ship was on radio silence. A formal protest wouldn’t change a damn thing. 

“Captain, given my science background —”

“We don’t need fancy science in a war zone.” Captain Maxwell faced forward again. “Computer, resume turbolift.”

The decks blurred through the lift’s small window.

Kathryn’s throat constricted.

Her hands balled into fists.

She’d never broken confidentiality before, so she spoke quickly before she could lose her nerve. “Sir, the truth is I’ve fought a Cardassian face-to-face. I don’t think anyone else on this ship has that experience.” 

Captain Maxwell stared at the small command trainee who had been rotating through stations on his bridge. The war had mostly been fought ship to ship, in space. Very few humans had even seen a Cardassian.

The lift doors opened to the bridge.

“My ready room, Janeway. Now.” 

As they walked past Miles’ post, the captain asked his junior tactical officer how long before they would arrive at Setlik III. Miles replied they would be there within the hour. Kathryn was so intent on convincing Captain Maxwell to put her on a team, she didn’t even glance at her friend. His nod hello rebuffed, Miles busied himself at his console.

The doors to the captain’s ready room closed.

Captain Maxwell settled behind his desk. Kathryn sat stiffly in a chair on the other side. 

“Why?” he said. “Why do you want to be part of this, Janeway?”

Kathryn had been asking herself that question ever since the captain announced their combat orders. She was ready to answer. “Sir, the details are classified, but I’ve seen what Cardassians are capable of. I want to do my duty as a Starfleet officer to protect civilians.”

Captain Maxwell leaned forward. 

“And just what have you seen Cardassians be capable of, Lieutenant, since this information isn’t part of your official file?”

Her jaw twitched. “Torture, sir.” 

Captain Maxwell’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Sir, I know what to anticipate and I can use any weapon, whether it’s a phaser or a blunt object, to save as many lives as possible.”

“Janeway,” the captain rubbed his forehead, “my family is on that planet.”

“I know, sir.”

Captain Maxwell stood, so Kathryn rose, too. He walked around his desk and put a hand on Kathryn’s shoulder. “Go to sickbay and get prepped. I’ll assign you to a team and deal with Admiral Paris when we re-establish communication.” 

She nodded and turned to leave. Kathryn didn’t want the captain to see a smile she wasn’t sure was relief … or something more sinister she didn’t want to believe herself capable of.

“And Janeway,” the captain called after her and she froze, “we’re Starfleet officers. We don’t kill for the sake of killing and we don’t kill for revenge. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.” Her response was automatic. “Thank you, sir.”

***

“What’s this one for, Stompie?” Kathryn asked. It was the third hypospray he’d pressed to her neck in as many minutes. 

“Blood,” he replied. “If you get cut, the clotting factor will be exposed to air, inhibiting how much blood you can lose from any one laceration.”

“Ah.”

Will reloaded the hypospray and pressed it to her neck again. “Sleep inhibitor,” he explained. 

She rolled her eyes. Kathryn’s insomnia was legendary on the _Rutledge._

“Hey, this is the prescribed regimen. Word is you wanted in on the combat mission.”

“I did.” Kathryn jumped off the biobed. “Are we done?”

“A moment of personal business?” Will stowed the hypospray in his lab coat pocket. 

Kathryn folded her arms. “All right.”

“Songbird thinks you’re mad at him for what he said in the rec room.”

“I’m not mad at Songbird.” Kathryn sighed, picturing the pinched look on Miles’ face when he’d caught her beer and apologized. “But I don’t need everyone walking on eggshells. Tell Songbird to talk to me, not have his best friend do the dirty work.”

“He would,” Will assured. “He just hasn’t had a chance since the first blow.”

Kathryn grimaced. “From the Cardassians or to my ego?”

“C’mon, Hairpins, that’s —”

“Sorry, sorry.” She held up a hand. “I’m sure other people have been dumped. I’ll be fine.”

“It’s only been a couple of weeks.” Will leaned against the biobed. “If you just talk to Mark, maybe you two can patch things up. My partner and I have settled plenty of arguments over subspace.”

The fight had looped through Kathryn’s brain since it happened. Mark’s anger and her wounded pride. Mark stalking off through the starbase, refusing to listen to her pleas. Her friends staring. The announcement for all _Rutledge _crewmembers to return to the ship. The back of Mark’s head as he strode away. Her chest tightening as the physical distance between them increased. The air in the docking bay seeming thin, like she couldn’t get a deep breath. The photograph of Mark she kept in her quarters in her hands, then face-down in her nightstand drawer, then in her hands again until she had to go on duty.

She cursed herself for not being good at compartmentalizing.

“Sometimes things just don’t work out, Stompie,” she said. “Even when two people are in love.”

Kathryn turned to leave. 

“I sent your medical records to the _Billings_,” Will called as she neared the door sensor. “Before radio silence, of course. I heard you’ll be a lieutenant commander the minute you step aboard. Congratulations. We’re going to miss you around here. When are you going to tell everyone?”

“Once we get through this mission,” Kathryn promised. “I’ll miss the _Rutledge_, but the _Billings_ is too good of an opportunity_.”_

Even if the career boost damaged her friendships and her love life. 

***

Captain Maxwell strode across the shuttlebay barking orders to rows of officers. He stressed the importance of finding and evacuating civilians, not engaging in needless firefights with Cardassians. As he spoke, crewmen distributed supplies, starting with combat jackets and various types of holsters to attach to standard uniforms. 

Kathryn was in the last of six rows of ten officers each, so she knew what was coming as equipment made its way down the lines. She snapped the holsters and jacket into place, pocketed the hydration pills and ration cubes, sheathed a knife in a compartment against her thigh, secured a hand phaser at her waist, and hefted a compression phaser rifle once before attaching it behind her back. There had been a quick training on the new weapon a few weeks ago, but Kathryn hadn’t yet spent much time with a compression phaser rifle. She liked the length of it — easier to aim than a hand phaser and more satisfying, somehow, too. 

“We hope to figure out a way to transport through the dampening field, but report to the closest shuttle landing site if we lose communication and you get separated from your team.” Captain Maxwell paced to the front of the room as he concluded the briefing. “Any questions?”

“How many Cardies are down there?” a crewmember called out. 

“_Cardassians_,” Captain Maxwell corrected. “We don’t dehumanize the enemy. And we don’t know. Scans can’t penetrate the dampening field.”

The captain’s eyes swept over the assembled teams. 

“Janeway!” he yelled. 

“Sir!” Her voice echoed off the shuttlebay bulkheads. 

“Tell your crewmates what they might expect when they encounter a Cardassian.”

The crisp rows muddled as heads turned toward the small command trainee. She stared straight ahead. 

“False kindness, sir. An attempt to ingratiate for the sole purpose of manipulation. Brutality without hesitation and a lack of regard for basic human dignity.”

The shuttlebay was silent.

“You have your orders.” Captain Maxwell’s eyes were steady, and it seemed as if he was speaking to each officer individually. “Do your duty and come back safe.”

Since Kathryn was a late addition to the mission, she had to ask one of the supply officers for her assignment. When she climbed into the shuttle, Molly was in the pilot’s seat tapping the console to begin pre-flight. The captain sat next to her, scanning.

“I think this is the safest flight path,” he said to Molly, but Kathryn couldn’t see the display. 

Will was next to Miles in the middle of one of the long benches along the rear walls of the shuttle. Miles was rearranging items in his tactical pack. Kathryn sat across from them, the compression phaser rifle hard against her back. Other officers were crowded onto the benches and Kathryn was jostled on one side and then the other. 

The ten people aboard the shuttle were one of six teams. The _Rutledge_ was sending every shuttle it had while officers onboard would work to cut through the dampening field inhibiting transport. The _Yorktown _was en route, but wasn’t expected for a week. The Cardassian ship that had been detected in orbit hadn’t fired on them. It was expected to start once the rescue mission began.

“Ready, Songbird?” Kathryn asked. 

“Damned field transporter,” Miles grumbled, his arm deep in his pack. “Takes up so much room and we don’t even know if we’ll be able to transport.”

As the shuttle lifted off, Will slung an arm around Miles’ shoulders and began to sing softly:

_The minstrel boy to the war has gone,_

_In the ranks of death you will find him,_

_His father's sword he hath girded on,_

_And his wild harp slung behind him._

“Louder,” Captain Maxwell ordered from the front. “Everybody sing.”

Miles, Will, Molly, and the others harmonized well, but Kathryn sounded like a targ with a wounded paw. She didn’t care. The compression phaser rifle was her wild harp and the knife was her sword. She cracked her knuckles. 

“Again,” Captain Maxwell said when the song ended. The tune bounced off the bulkheads with even more gusto. 

Their flight path felt like a flea jumping on a dog. Slightly nauseous, Kathryn leaned forward and saw Molly executing complex evasive maneuvers. Cardassian disruptor beams shot past the shuttle. Fortunately, the planet was filling more and more of the front viewport. 

Kathryn leaned back. 

“One more time,” Captain Maxwell declared. This one was a booming rendition. 

_The minstrel boy to the war has gone!_

_In the ranks of death you will find him!_

_His father's sword he hath girded on!_

_And his wild harp slung behind him!_

There were cheers and fists in the air as the shuttle descended through the atmospheric turbulence of Setlik III. Molly announced it was nighttime, but she was taking them down as quickly as possible and they should be on the surface in ten seconds. 

Four seconds later, Captain Maxwell gasped. 


	2. Chapter 2

The fires were visible through the blown-out windows and doorways of multi-story structures. Roofs were still on, so the flames had to have been started planet-side — not disruptors or torpedoes from orbit. That meant Cardassians could be nearby. Smoke burned Kathryn’s eyes as she exited the shuttle. It was hot as hell and stunk of sulphur. Like the others, she unzipped her jacket. 

“This was a residential area and these buildings were apartment homes,” Captain Maxwell said. He ordered the group to split into an alpha team and a beta team, each taking one side of the street. “Your first priority is survivors. Let’s go.”

Will, Molly, Miles, and Kathryn hurried to keep up with Captain Maxwell in alpha team. The younger officers could tell by his gait that this street was one their captain had walked before. Perhaps even where his wife and children had lived.

“Captain,” Will tapped at his tricorder, his pack of medical supplies bouncing against his back, “my scans don’t show any civilian life signs in this area.”

The captain spun and the four other members of the team stopped short. 

“Interference?” Captain Maxwell demanded, the orange light from the fires flickering against his face.

“No, sir,” Will said. 

“A cloak of some kind?” Captain Maxwell asked. 

“No, sir,” Will said. “No life signs except ours and beta team.”

Captain Maxwell grabbed the medical tricorder.

Everyone knew Will was a top-notch nurse and the captain had been an operations officer before he was promoted into command. Still, the captain studied the readings. Members of the team shifted. Sweat ran down Kathryn’s back as she looked from building to building. Every fire was a Cardassian decision to destroy. Her jaw clenched and she swallowed hard. 

“Am I understanding this correctly that there is not one civilian life sign in an alley, down a basement, up a goddamn tree?” 

The captain handed the tricorder back.

Will nodded and studied the display again. “Also, sir, I’m now reading Cardassian life signs a few blocks away, headed toward our position.”

Kathryn and Miles grabbed their hand phasers. A sound of panic came from Molly as she grasped air around her waist holster. 

“Captain,” she said. “I forgot my phaser in the shuttle. It was distracting me during the evasive maneuvers and I —”

The building closest to them shuddered. Kathryn turned. She saw an exterior wall undulate like an ocean wave, cresting from bottom to top, flames bright through the collapsing window holes. 

In one swing of his arm, Captain Maxwell pushed his four crewmembers to the ground and fell with them. The left side of Kathryn’s jaw scraped against the pavement. Pain split her vision. There was a sound like thunder, then currents of heat passed over them as the structure crumbled, spitting fiery debris. If the team had been standing, their hands and faces could have been seared and the smoke would have choked them. Debris fell in their vicinity, but a quick roll call confirmed no one was hit.

Captain Maxwell commed beta team and told them to report to the shuttle. 

“Time to move on.” The captain pushed himself to his hands and knees and then to standing. “There’s nothing left to save here.”

***

“Your osteo-booster saved you from a broken bone, so it’s just split skin — should heal in about an hour,” Will told Kathryn as he fastened dermal tape to the injured side of her face. “Starfleet Medical is testing some kind of skin regenerator that’s supposed to heal this type of injury within minutes.”

“Sounds great.” Kathryn tried to hold still as the shuttle sped to the other side of the planet. Every time she blinked, she saw orange fire against her eyelids. By the time beta team got back to the shuttle, individual buildings were indistinct within the flames. If the _Rutledge_ had arrived a few hours earlier, could they have saved the people who lived on that block? In that city? 

In consultation with Will, the captain had run a complex set of scans when they returned to the shuttle. The only civilian life signs on the planet were at a place called the Barrica encampment. All _Rutledge _teams were on their way to rendezvous there.

“Why do you think the Cardies haven’t attacked us?” a member of beta team asked.

“Strategy?” Miles proposed. “Maybe they want us to converge on the encampment for some reason.”

“You should tell the captain,” Kathryn said, the dermal tape pulling at her skin as she spoke. 

The crewmembers on the benches peeked at their captain. Those closer to the front of the shuttle whispered down the line that Captain Maxwell was staring out the viewport, not even looking at his console.

“Do it, Songbird,” Will told Miles. “It’s your job.”

Miles went to the captain and spoke softly to him. From the benches, team members saw the captain shake his head, put a hand to Miles’ shoulder, then look out the viewport again. The shuttle’s course didn’t change. Miles returned to the bench. 

“What did he say?” Kathryn asked. The tape didn’t pull as much that time.

“What do you think, Hairpins?” one of the beta team members snapped. 

“Hey,” Miles held up a hand, “he said it’s better to fall for a trap and sleep at night than to play it safe and leave civilians to die.”

“If we don’t get killed in the process,” the beta team member said. 

No one spoke the rest of the flight to the Barrica encampment. 

***

“Ensign Walsh, remember to take your hand phaser,” Captain Maxwell said when they landed. “It’s time to find some survivors.”

The encampment had single-story homes in neat blocks along hilly terrain. Yards were green and tidy. What looked like a schoolhouse was on a corner. It was daylight and Setlik system planets orbited binary stars. Members of _Rutledge _teams shaded their eyes when they exited their shuttles. There were woods behind them and a slight breeze rustled leaves on the trees. 

Smoke rose from fires just a few blocks away.

Captain Maxwell said his team plus another team would check the school. “Everyone else, go house to house in pairs. If there are life signs and no one answers when you knock, break the door down. If the door doesn’t give, enter through a window. People may be too frightened to move. Load survivors into shuttles. When a shuttle fills, two officers should take survivors to the _Rutledge, _then return to continue the search. Let’s move!”

Captain Maxwell once again split his team into alpha and beta. As they sprinted toward the school, Kathryn heard her shipmates pounding on doors. “This is Starfleet! You’re safe! Open up!” Her compression phaser rifle bounced against her back. The captain’s commbadge chirped. 

“Sir,” the voice said. “It’s all men in the houses. They say women and children were forced to the schoolhouse.”

“Did they say why?” Captain Maxwell didn’t break his running stride.

“They just said people who didn’t do as they were told had their throats cut.”

The captain stumbled, but recovered quickly. Kathryn kept her eyes on the path in front of them. What did the captain expect? These were _Cardassians_. 

Captain Maxwell ordered beta team and the additional team to secure the school. Crewmembers kicked in the front doors. Kathryn and Miles stood just outside the entrance, their phasers drawn. Will double-checked his medkit.

A _Rutledge _shuttle departed. 

Twenty men, the report came to Captain Maxwell. All uninjured, so they would be dropped off in the shuttlebay and the shuttle would return for more. 

“There!” Molly pointed to the top of a hill.

A ground vehicle held three Cardassians, one driving and two shooting grenades from shoulder launchers. When a grenade shattered the window of a home, the area directly inside burst into flames. 

_Rutledge _crewmembers up and down the street aimed their phasers.

“Sir, we don’t know what phasers will do to the grenades,” Miles warned. “We could blow up this whole settlement.”

Captain Maxwell commed all crewmembers and ordered them to hold their fire. He asked Miles if there was a safe way to disable the vehicle. Miles looked at his captain helplessly. There was no way to know. 

“Janeway, what do you know about Cardassian vehicles or grenades?” 

She bit her lip. “Nothing, sir.”

Beta team commed the captain. They had stunned two guards who were holding about a hundred women and children in the school lunchroom. The captain tried to contact the ship, but the dampening field was still in place. He commed all teams on the planet.

“Avoid the Cardassians, but if you find a way to safely disable their vehicle, do it. Your priority is survivors and yourselves, not engagement with the enemy. Try to stay with your team, but take any shuttle when it’s time to go home.”

He jutted his chin toward the schoolhouse and turned to alpha team. 

“We’re going in.”

***

As they ran into the school, phasers drawn, Miles whispered to Kathryn, “The rumors are true. Those Cardies have the biggest necks I’ve ever seen.”

She snorted. “Don’t let the captain hear you call them that.”

They sprinted past doors labeled with teacher names and students of the week. One door was open, and, from the corner of her eye, Kathryn saw rows of desks and a larger desk for the teacher. There were open books on the floor, as if people in the room had been rushed out in the middle of a lesson.

The two stunned Cardassians lay on either side of the double doors to the lunchroom. Beta team was already sectioning women and children into groups to take to the _Rutledge. _Captain Maxwell ordered two groups to go, and forty survivors and four members of beta team ran past alpha team into the school hallway. 

“Sir,” a member of the other team reported. “They said they’ve been here for five hours. The Cardassians have gone district by district across the planet interrogating people.”

“What do the Cardassians want to know?” the captain asked.

“Unclear, sir. The people here are waiting to be interrogated. They don’t know how the process works.”

“Do they know they’re among the few civilians left on the planet?”

The team member shook his head.

The sixty survivors remaining were the ones who hadn’t moved immediately when _Rutledge _crewmembers said to get into groups to evacuate. Women and children were crying, clutching each other, demanding answers Starfleet personnel didn’t have.

“Where’s my husband?”

“What did the Cardassians do to the people on Trabo Continent?”

“Why is this happening?”

A child who looked to be about five years old was sitting by himself on the floor. His face was wet with tears but he didn’t move. 

“Hi.” Kathryn crouched next to the boy, her holstered knife hard against her thigh. “I’m from Starfleet. Have you ever been in space?”

The boy stared at her.

“Want to ride in a shuttle to a spaceship?” 

“I want,” the boy’s chin quivered, “my daddy.”

Kathryn wanted her daddy, too. “Let’s help you find him.” She took the child’s hand and walked him to a _Rutledge _crewmember. “Put him on the shuttle.”

The boy was the last person in the group and two crewmembers ran the civilians outside.

A grenade flew through a lunchroom window, shattering it. 

On the floor, the grenade split and spurted fire.

People screamed. 

Kathryn joined _Rutledge _crewmembers pushing women and children toward the doors. “Move! Move!”

Miles ran to the fire, dropping his pack on the floor and shrugging off his jacket. All Starfleet uniform cloth was fire resistant. Miles tried to smother the fire, but the flames were spreading too quickly. Other crewmembers ran to him, removing equipment from their backs and pulling off their own jackets.

There was weapons fire just outside the lunchroom.

“What the hell?” Captain Maxwell commed the lookout officers. There was no response. He ordered teams in the lunchroom to reverse course, take the women and children away from the doors. A crewmember on the planet commed the captain and informed him there were no houses left in the Barrica encampment; crewmembers were departing back to the _Rutledge _as shuttles became available.

“Captain,” Molly shouted as she and Kathryn each pushed a door closed, “these doors don’t lock!”

Under a pile of charred Starfleet jackets, the fire whispered out.

“Janeway! Walsh!” the captain shouted. “Get tables against those doors!”

But, before Kathryn or Molly made it more than a few steps, the doors burst open and two Cardassian soldiers entered the lunchroom. Each held a massive weapon.


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m Captain Benjamin Maxwell of the Federation starship _Rutledge_. What is the meaning of this attack on a peaceful planet?”

The Cardassians sneered.

Their weapons were as long as a compression phaser rifle but thicker. Kathryn could see the wavy patterns etched into the metal — as well as every scale on the neck of the Cardassian closer to her. She was about a meter away from them, Molly by her side, both of them near the wall while the Cardassians stood just inside the doorway. Civilians were on the other side of the lunchroom, as far from the Cardassians as possible.

Children cried.

Kathryn had never seen these particular Cardassians before, but they had the same grey, ridged skin as the ones that had tortured her. The inverted teardrop shape on their foreheads was identical, too. Her vision blackened for a second, but she gulped air and held her position. Gritting her teeth helped her focus, so she ground her molars together.

“Nobody needs to get hurt here.” Captain Maxwell’s voice was somewhere between authoritative and begging. He stood in the middle of the lunchroom and placed his phaser on the floor. “Put down your weapons and let’s talk.”

Miles didn’t have his pack anymore, but he had his hand phaser holstered at his waist. He pulled it out slowly. From her place near the doors, Kathryn watched him. She inched out her knife. Molly’s breath caught and Kathryn glared at her to be quiet.

The Cardassian farther from Kathryn aimed his weapon at the women and children. Will and other sickbay staff members were among the civilians, their medical insignias visible on their jackets and medkits. It was a war crime to knowingly injure a medic. 

“I’ll go with you if you spare these people.” Captain Maxwell stepped forward, his hands up. 

The Cardassian fired, a wide beam accompanied by a piercing sound. Some civilians screamed and began to run as others incinerated.

Miles aimed and stunned the Cardassian that had killed innocent people. Kathryn jumped forward and knifed the other Cardassian in the forearm. Brown blood spurted through the hole she sliced in his uniform. He cried out in pain and dropped his weapon.

_What do you think of that, Cardie?_ Kathryn’s brain screamed the taunt she was too well-trained to say out loud. She pushed the knife past muscle into bone. _Hurts, doesn’t it?_ _Like you hurt Admiral Paris. Like you hurt me._

The Cardassian shoved her and she flew a few meters, landing on her side. Her bloodied knife was still in her hand. Kathryn scrambled to her feet. Her heart pounded, but she felt no pain and was ready to fight.

The Cardassian could have picked up his weapon and tried to kill more people. His comrade had ended a dozen lives with one blast. Surely, it wouldn’t take much to target those left. 

But the Cardassian had eyes for only one person: the soldier who had phasered his comrade — Miles O’Brien. 

With a guttural scream, the Cardassian lunged toward Miles. Captain Maxwell, his own phaser once again in his hand, yelled for someone to stun the Cardassian. But women and children were running in panic and no _Rutledge_ crewmember could get a clean shot.

Miles’ phaser was on the floor, knocked out of his hand by civilians too blinded by terror to watch where they were going.

In an instant, the Cardassian’s hands were around Miles’ neck. Kathryn pulled her compression phaser rifle from her back. As she tried to line up her shot, a civilian tripped over Miles’ phaser. The woman fell, but grabbed the weapon and pressed it into Miles’ hand. As she did, her fingers slipped across the power control, setting the phaser to kill.

His face red from the Cardassian choking him, Miles angled the weapon against the Cardassian’s back and squeezed the trigger.

The Cardassian vaporized.

Miles staggered backward, gasping for air. He dropped his phaser again and his hands covered his face.

“Get these women and children to shuttles.” Captain Maxwell’s voice filled the room. “I want every member of my alpha team to report to me immediately.”

“Sir, that’s not possible.” Molly’s voice broke. “Will’s dead.”

***

“Was this some sort of vengeance?” Captain Maxwell demanded of Miles. “Did you know Will Kayden had been killed?”

What was left of alpha team huddled as other crewmembers cleared the area.

“I didn’t, sir,” Miles insisted, his phaser re-holstered and his pack once again on his back. “I couldn’t tell who the Cardassian took out with his shot. I didn’t know my phaser was set to kill.”

“It’s true,” Kathryn said. “I saw a civilian woman accidentally change the setting.”

Captain Maxwell glared at her. “I should put you on report, Janeway. What the hell were you thinking knifing that Cardassian?”

“I was thinking, sir,” she worked to keep her voice level, not sarcastic, “that I wanted his weapon out of his hands and I didn’t have time to aim my phaser.”

The captain set his jaw. “Walsh!” 

“Yes, sir,” Molly replied.

“You’re flying us out of here. Let’s go.”

They ran through school hallways again. The captain’s shoulders were tight. No one dared to speak. 

When they got outside, every home was on fire. The smoke was so thick, the captain had them hold hands as they ran to the area where the shuttles had been. Molly’s grip was firm in Kathryn’s, but Miles’ hand was shaking. Kathryn’s eyes burned and she breathed through her mouth to try to avoid the sulphur smell.

Three shuttles were still there. One had its rear hatch open. _Rutledge _personnel were scurrying in, pushing the few remaining civilians ahead of them. The other two shuttles began to rise. They were about 10 meters up when a grenade hit one of them, incinerating it into a fireball. The other sped upward, out of sight. 

A trio of grenades sailed into the area. Kathryn noticed grenades that hit dirt didn’t do anything, but one hit the last remaining shuttle and it burst into flames. Crew on the ground backpedaled, shielding their faces with their sleeves against the searing heat. Crewmembers inside the shuttle screamed, but the fire spread too quickly for any of them to escape. 

Captain Maxwell slapped his commbadge and shouted so those around him could hear, too. “All _Rutledge _personnel remaining, fall back. Move into the schoolhouse. We’ll set up a defense there.”

“No!” Kathryn shouted. “The woods.”

The captain didn’t hesitate. “Correction, move to the woods. Dig in with your people. Find a group, even if it isn’t your own. Await rescue in the woods. Repeat: Find a team and secure a position in the woods.”

They ran toward the trees.

“The grenades, sir,” Kathryn said, her compression phaser rifle thumping against her back, “they only detonated on inorganic matter.” 

“Nice scientific observation, Janeway,” the captain replied. “Glad you’re on our team.”

She smiled so broadly the dermal tape cracked and fell off. It landed on the ground and was quickly buried in dirt stirred by other officers’ boots. 

***

The Cardassians didn’t follow them into the woods.

The captain ordered crewmembers to phaser a trench along the border with the Barrica encampment to protect the woods from the fires. The smoke was considerably less dense among the trees, so it was easier to see.

“Janeway,” Captain Maxwell demanded, “why do you think the Cardassians aren’t pursuing?”

“Planning, sir,” she replied. “They probably want to assess us, possibly lull us into false confidence.”

There were forty _Rutledge_ crewmembers. The captain ordered them to set up defensive positions in small groups. This way, they could warn each other of approaching Cardassians and be less vulnerable to any one attack. Everyone was to look for _Rutledge _shuttles to return. If the ship figured out how to transport through the dampening field, so much the better. 

Captain Maxwell led his remaining alpha team members to a well-shaded site behind a rock about half the size of a shuttlecraft. The junior officers watched the woods, their phasers in their hands, as the captain stood nearby and checked in with other teams.

“Stompie,” Molly whispered to her friends. “He had to do a next of kin recording even though he’s medical, right?”

Miles seemed distracted, but he answered the question. “He said he did two. His partner and his parents.”

“Good,” Molly replied. “They’ll have that to remember him by.”

Starfleet required personnel assigned to a combat mission to record a message to be delivered to next of kin if the soldier was declared missing or killed in action. Just before reporting to the shuttlebay, Kathryn had stopped in her quarters and tapped “record” on her computer terminal. 

“I have to do what I think is right,” she’d said to the blinking light on the display. “I love you, Mom. Please tell Phoebe I love her, too. I hope her watercolors exhibition goes well. And, Mom … Mark and I had an argument. We, uh, we broke up. So, if he’s still mad at me, please understand. But, if you’ll tell him I love him, I’d appreciate it. And, if I’m dead and I’m wrong and there is an afterlife, then I’ll tell Daddy how much we’ve missed him, okay? I love you.”

In the woods of Setlik III, Kathryn’s eyes flicked from tree to tree as she checked for Cardassians. Stompie. Two next of kin messages to be watched by grieving relatives. Goddamn.

“Repeat your last!” The captain had been tense, but relatively calm, as he talked with other team leaders. Now, he was shouting. He tapped his badge again and began to call out names of personnel on the planet. “Finnegan! Boone! O’Connor! McCarthy!” He turned to his team. “We’ve lost communication.”

***

At first, it was quiet. Innoculations from sickbay were still in effect, so no one slept, was hungry, or needed to toilet. The temperature was mild during the day and at night, so weather wasn’t a problem. Insects had an annoying buzz, but they didn’t bite. There was no sign of Cardassians in the woods, but patrols that ventured to the edge of the trees reported growing Cardassian activity at the Barrica encampment. 

“Thirty soldiers” was the estimate the first day. 

“Forty soldiers” was the estimate the next day. 

“At least fifty” was the estimate the day after that.

There was no sign of rescue shuttles.

Captain Maxwell and Molly often left to check on other _Rutledge _crewmembers. Teams were within shouting distance, but the captain liked to ensure visual contact a couple of times a day.

Miles and Kathryn had been trying to get the field transporter working. No one was sure whether the _Rutledge _was even still up there, but the captain had said they would find out together. 

For a while, Miles and Kathryn handed each other tools and ran diagnostics, their attention on their work. But when Miles misaligned a power cell for the third time, Kathryn asked what was bothering him. 

“I’ve never killed anyone before.” Miles gently unfastened the misaligned cell. He had days of beard growth. Both his hands were in the field transporter casing, so he used his shoulder to scratch his chin.

“You’re a tactical specialist,” Kathryn argued, a hyperspanner in her hand. Her bun had long since fallen apart, so she’d used her fingers to comb out dead leaves and then pin her hair into a long ponytail. “Didn’t you ever fire ship’s phasers?”

“That’s different and we both know it, Hairpins.” Miles eased the cell into proper position. His hair had leaves in it, too. “I saw that man’s eyes go wide as he realized he would die. He was there, and then he wasn’t.”

“He would have done it to you.” Kathryn snapped the panel closed. “His comrade killed your best friend.”

“So now I’m a killer, too,” Miles murmured somewhere between a statement and a question.

The field transporter hummed, but still couldn’t break through the dampening field. 

When she was there, Molly wanted to talk about Will. 

“Remember the time Stompie organized the pie-eating contest in the mess hall?”

“Remember the time Stompie climbed onto the pool table in the rec room and led everyone in singing _The Minstrel Boy_ song?”

“Remember the time —”

“Molly!” Kathryn hadn’t meant to shout. “Look at Songbird.”

Every time he heard his best friend’s name, Miles’ shoulders hunched and he would squint back tears. 

“Sorry.” Molly wrung her hands. “I’m sorry, Songbird.”

“It’s all right.” The words came out of Miles’ mouth, but it was obvious he was just trying to help Molly feel better. 

Molly pulled Kathryn aside. “Can we talk about Stompie? Just us?”

The memory of Will applying the dermal tape swam before Kathryn. The last injury he ever healed. Will was kind. Thoughtful. A great nurse. His death was a waste and a war crime. 

Goddamn Cardies.

“I don’t get it, Molly.” Kathryn tried to speak gently, not betray her irritation. “You forget everything, but all you want to do is reminisce about Stompie. It doesn’t make sense.”

Molly sucked in air between her teeth. “I may forget things like beer or phasers, but I would never forget a person. My God, Hairpins, forgetting a person is about the worst thing anyone can do.”

Kathryn apologized, but Molly went and sat by herself. She traced patterns into the dirt with a stick.

As their hyposprays wore off, members of the _Rutledge _crew went in pairs to urinate or defecate. When they cut themselves on rocks or thorns, they bled. Their uniforms became caked with dirt. People unzipped as much as modesty allowed, just for some airflow. A few crewmembers cut slits in their trousers, but the captain ordered everyone else not to because the split material could snag, a potentially deadly distraction in a fight. The captain also ordered no use of combat knives for shaving or other personal concerns. The blades were too sharp to take the risk and most of the medical personnel were dead or flew away with civilians in shuttles.

Hair and skin became oily.

Teeth felt wolly.

Underarms stunk.

It rained one night and crewmembers stripped off their uniforms and wrung out rivulets of mud. But the uniforms were scratchy when they dried and wearing them felt like being encased in husks of sand. At least the rain had brought water to collect, allowing teams to conserve hydration pills.

Kathryn nursed a caffeine withdrawal headache and Miles said he had one, too.

“Cream and sugar,” she said, sitting next to Miles, their backs against the rock, her fingers rubbing her temples. “That’s the best way to drink coffee.”

“Jamaican blend, double-strong, double-sweet.” Miles cupped his hands as if he had a mug in them. “I can taste it now.”

“Have you tried raktajino?” Molly sat on Miles’ other side. Her crewmates shook their heads. “It’s Klingon coffee. Pretty good.”

Captain Maxwell was tapping his commbadge with a micro-filament, trying to expand the range to reach the _Yorktown_. “Black,” he said, not looking up from his work. “That’s the way a captain drinks coffee. Black.”

***

Because he didn’t know when they would be rescued, Captain Maxwell had been forced to order all phasers set to kill. Thumbs flicked across power settings and the weapons were ready to vaporize with the squeeze of a trigger. 

Those closer to the Barrica encampment had phaser fights with Cardassians. 

Two Cardassians died. 

Three _Rutledge_ crewmembers were killed. 

Another Cardassian died. 

One more _Rutledge_ crewmember was killed. 

There were hours of silence, then phaser fire, then more hours of silence. 

Sleep was difficult but the captain ordered personnel to lie down in a rotation, even if they weren’t tired. 

Miles snored. 

Molly slept on her side with her knees curled and her jacket folded between her head and the dirt. 

Kathryn, when she slept, didn’t dream. When she couldn’t sleep, she stared through tree branches at what she could see of the sky. If her assigned time was at night, she watched the stars. If it was during the day, she found shapes in the clouds. One looked like a whale. Another like a dog with floppy ears. She refused to think about her mother or Phoebe … or Mark.

When Captain Maxwell slept, the junior officers tried not to look at him. They knew, of course, captains slept. But none of them had ever seen it. 

“Your dad was a captain, right Hairpins?” Miles whispered. “Surely you saw him sleep.”

“Not the same, Songbird.” Her voice was low. “Not the same at all.”

“When should we ask him if he’s okay?” Molly murmured. “We all know his family is probably dead.”

Kathryn looked at her dirty boots. Miles leaned against the rock, the heel of his hand pressed to his forehead. They had been in the woods for more than a week. Where the hell was the _Yorktown_?

***

Captain Maxwell ordered everyone to conserve their rations.

The few tricorders remaining had been useless since they lost communication. So, the crew visually checked wild berries for common signs of poisonous plants, then a brave soul ate one. When he was fine after six hours, others took tentative bites. There were watery red berries and sweet blue ones but everyone soon agreed the tart yellow ones were the best. Well, everyone except Miles. 

“I like the rations,” he shrugged. “Is that so bad?” 

The captain smiled for the first time since the initial volley of Cardassian weapons fire back on the _Rutledge._ He put a hand to Miles’ shoulder. “You’re a credit to Starfleet, O’Brien. I’ll trade you half a ration cube for a handful of red berries.”

There were small rodents that could be killed quickly with a knife and then heated over a campfire. One of the crewmen pronounced their taste to be like gamey squirrel. But, if chewed long enough, they were edible. Some crewmembers spotted larger, bear-like creatures in the distance, but the captain said not to risk hunting them. The word “yet” was unspoken.

Hydration pills lasted longer than ration cubes, but there was a skinny, slow-moving stream. The few medkits available contained filtration straws. Crewmembers took turns sipping, then hid the straws under designated rocks. The captain wouldn’t budge on his order not to use the stream for personal hygiene. A crewmember or two with a slightly less dirty face wasn’t worth depleting their only fresh water source.

Team members rotated lookout duties. One day when the suns were high overhead, Miles chewed on a ration cube while he chatted with Kathryn. She had her eyes on the woods, her compression phaser rifle balanced on her knees. Molly slept and the captain, as usual, was working on his commbadge.

“I’ve never spent two weeks in the woods before,” Miles said. “Can’t say I ever want to again.”

“My parents used to take my sister and me on camping trips when I was a kid.” Kathryn’s eyes flicked from tree to tree searching for Cardassians. “I hated it. At least this has a purpose. We’re here for something bigger than ourselves.”

“Getting philosophical on me, Hairpins?” Miles teased. 

Philosophical. 

The word was a punch in the gut. 

Damnit, this was a life and death situation — Starfleet business and keeping her crewmates safe. Miles’ best friend had died. The captain probably lost his wife and children. Kathryn absolutely refused to boo-hoo over a philosopher who had broken her heart. She double-checked the settings on her compression phaser rifle.

But her face must have given her away. 

“Sorry.” Miles cradled his forehead in his hand. “I was an idiot in the rec room and now I’m an idiot here, too.”

“I wasn’t mad at you before and I’m not mad at you now.” Kathryn’s voice was tight. “You saw what happened. Everybody saw what happened. There’s no point in pretending any differently.”

Kathryn was the lookout. Her vision absolutely could not blur. She blinked rapidly.

“In that case, I’ll say what I think.” Miles put the rest of his ration cube in his pocket. “Mark seemed like a nice guy. You two were good together. I only met him a few times, but you both have that ambitious energy.”

That last part was the wrong thing to say. 

Kathryn pushed her compression phaser rifle toward Miles. “You’re lookout.”

Beat down by filth, frustration, and fear, Kathryn hugged her knees and squeezed her eyes shut so the tears would stay inside. 

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Again, in and out. 

Again.

“I’m the one who blew it, Songbird.” She opened her eyes and took back her compression phaser rifle. “That’s something I’ll have to learn to live with.”

“_Is fearr lúbadh ná briseadh_,” Miles said. 

Kathryn could tell the words were Irish Gaelic, but she didn’t understand them. She tilted her head, her eyes still checking the trees.

“It means, ‘It is better to bend than to break.’” Miles explained. “Something my mother used to say when I got into arguments in the schoolyard.”

Miles walked away. Kathryn heard him volunteer to assist the captain, but the captain proposed a bathroom break first. Captain Maxwell called out that they would be back in a few minutes. Their footsteps retreated.

Was the captain giving her a chance to cry by herself? Did captains notice such things? What about her lookout duties? It had been quiet for the last few hours, but that didn’t mean much.

Against her will, Kathryn’s mind swirled back to the fight. 

She had been looking forward to spending time with Mark on the starbase. It would be only a few hours, but they hadn’t seen each other in two months. Subspace calls weren’t the same. 

When the _Rutledge _arrived, she had rushed to meet him in the temporary quarters she’d reserved. Things were always physical at first, but then they had talked, still wrapped up in each other, the bedclothes pulled up and around them.

“I’m getting a promotion!” Kathryn had been so proud of herself for waiting to tell him in person. “It’s to the _Billings _and it’s a family ship. I requested partner quarters and I think I’ll get them.” 

Mark’s forehead had creased. 

She’d explained, “We can live together on the ship. You can work remotely with Questor Group and go to Earth when you need to for symposiums and exhibitions. Won’t that be great?” 

“Honey,” Mark had kissed her, “I would love for us to live together, but my job is talking, debating, collaborating in a big group. I can’t do that through a computer terminal. Ideas need energy to come to fruition and that means being present.” 

Kathryn had offered suggestions, proposals, counter-arguments. Mark had been patient — until he wasn’t anymore. 

“I know what this is about,” he’d accused, pulling his pants on with jagged movements. “You don’t value my work. It’s not Starfleet, so it’s second-class.”

“That’s not true._” _She had tried to touch his arm, but he’d yanked it away. 

Because they both knew it was true. 

When she realized he was going to leave the room, she’d fastened her uniform in record time. “Don’t you walk out on me! We aren’t finished here.”

“Kath,” he had turned just before activating the door sensor, “I would never try to clip your wings. But, since you think so little of me that you would want to clip mine, then, yes, we are finished.”

She had run after him through the starbase, but Mark was a man of his word. It was one of the many things she loved about him. 

Damnit. 

By the time Miles and Captain Maxwell returned, Kathryn’s dirty face had clean streaks down her cheeks. The captain told her to take her rest rotation and, for once, she fell asleep the minute she lay down. Kathryn’s sleep became so deep that, at first, she was confused when she jerked awake to the sound of phaser fire.


	4. Chapter 4

Each day, the Cardassians delved deeper and deeper into the woods. Starfleet phasers were losing power. Most were down to three-quarters full with hand phasers holding energy slightly better than compression phaser rifles. _Rutledge_ crewmembers lined up their shots carefully.

The captain and Miles talked often about strategy. They decided Miles would lead a team to raid the schoolhouse. Reports said it was still standing and there might be food or communications equipment inside. The team would go at night. Those with lighter skin would paint their faces with mud to help them hide in the darkness.

Miles’ hands shook, so Molly painted his face for him, avoiding his beard, leaving holes for his eyes and mouth.

Kathryn watched Miles pull on his pack. It was empty with the hope it would be stuffed with food when he returned. Her hand phaser had more power than his, so they swapped. “You still owe me a game of pool,” she told him. “Don’t think you can get out of it.”

Miles’ mouth was a tight, pink line on his dark face.

He left.

Four hours later, Miles returned. His pack was on his back and the phaser was in its holster. The mud was rubbed away across his forehead, but otherwise remained.

Captain Maxwell said it so gently it was almost a request: “Report.”

Miles and the twenty other members of his team had crept to the edge of the woods. As they ducked through the burned-up area where the _Rutledge_ shuttles had been parked, one kicked an unspent grenade. Miles recovered it and added it to his pack, hopeful he could study the technology once a Starfleet ship rescued them.

The team watched Cardassian guards outside the school, waiting for an opportunity to sneak in. Finally, they saw their chance. They broke a window in the lunchroom and climbed through, weapons drawn. 

It was dark, but the room seemed empty except for tables and chairs.

The team split into smaller groups to look for a food storage area. They found a janitor’s closet, a chef’s office, and a lavatory where the water didn’t run. 

Under a prep table in the kitchen, a member of the team discovered a bounty. Loaves of bread, their crusts green with mold but edible inside. Cans with pictures of peas, beans, and spinach on them. Cardboard boxes of cereal. Glass bottles containing purple, red, or green juice.

They loaded their packs. When the packs ran out of room, they took what they could hold while still being able to aim and fire their weapons.

It was time to go.

The first members of the team were climbing out through the window when Cardassian weapons fire lit the room. Crewmembers incinerated to Miles’ left and to his right. He couldn’t see well enough to aim his phaser, so Miles did the only thing he could think to do to protect his team — he tossed the food aside, pulled the grenade from the bottom of his pack, and threw it as hard as he could toward the source of the Cardassian weapons. 

He heard screams as he jumped out the window. 

By the time Miles and the twelve remaining members of his team got to the street, the entire school was on fire. Cardassians were leaping out of windows, their thick musculature silhouetted by the flames. The _Rutledge_ crew darted into the woods. They didn’t know where the Cardassians went. 

“But,” Miles said, “I got this.”

In his hand was a dented can of peas. 

***

Cardassians who survived the destruction of their schoolhouse barracks joined their comrades in the woods. It took them a few days to organize themselves. 

“Should we go on the offensive, sir?” Molly asked. 

“Starfleet doesn’t fire first,” Captain Maxwell replied. 

The junior officers didn’t know how to remind him, without sounding insubordinate, that the Cardassians had fired first — weeks ago.

Then it began in earnest.

Cardassians and _Rutledge_ crew fought with energy weapons, with knives, and with rocks. They used tree branches as bo staffs and they used their bare hands to squeeze the life out of each other. One Starfleet team had kept the carcasses of rodents they had eaten. They sharpened bones into arrowheads and aimed them at the scaly necks of incoming Cardassians. 

Though they could hear each other’s screams, _Rutledge_ crewmembers couldn’t communicate without the Cardassians knowing what they were saying. Working in effective isolation, most teams ended niceties like straying from camp to toilet.

The lunchroom food Miles’ team had recovered was long gone. Crew members tried to stretch their remaining rations and hydration pills.

Not that there was much left. 

Lips chapped from dehydration and throats burned from shouting to be heard over the fighting. Stomachs groaned. Ears rang.

The captain killed four Cardassians with his hand phaser and one with his knife. Molly took down three with her hand phaser and Kathryn vaporized two with her compression phaser rifle. Miles killed one and then dropped his phaser. The captain took him aside and chatted with him, his hand on Miles’ shoulder. 

One night, Kathryn sat watch, her right hand clasped around the front grip of her compression phaser rifle, her left hand ready at the trigger. Her mind was on the two Cardassians she’d killed the day before. They had been standing next to each other. When she fired on the first one, she had expected a surge of … something. Rage? Satisfaction? She would have taken sadness, even. But she had simply aimed and fired at the second Cardassian. She wasn’t like Miles or the captain. When he killed the Cardassian with his knife, Captain Maxwell had clutched his own stomach, then wasted phaser power to vaporize the man he had stabbed.

Kathryn hadn’t felt a damn thing since she’d cried about Mark more than a week ago. 

She didn’t see any Cardies. The only sounds were from the insects. Kathryn had given up trying to keep them out of her hair. If the captain hadn’t prohibited use of combat knives for personal concerns she would have hacked it off days ago. She’d considered asking permission, but the captain had always been clean-shaven and now he had a wild, wiry beard he scratched when he thought no one was looking. If the captain wasn’t going to defy his own order, neither would she. 

Night watch wore on. 

Miles was on rest rotation, snoring. Molly and Captain Maxwell were quiet. Perhaps they had fallen asleep, too? Sleep had been difficult. 

There was a noise. 

Kathryn aimed her compression phaser rifle in the direction of the sound. It was like … dragging. Like someone or something was trying to pull itself across the dirt. 

It stopped. 

Maybe the noise had been a rodent with injured hind legs. 

It had sounded a lot bigger than a rodent, though. 

From the same direction came a sound like air blowing across the top of a beer bottle — long, low, mournful. 

“Janeway,” Captain Maxwell whispered as he got to his feet, “what’s the location on that sound?”

“Two o’clock from my position, sir. Cardassian territory. Doubtful it’s one of our people.” _Because Cardassians kill or torture. They don’t leave wounded humans to die. _

The captain sat next to her. His head was cocked and he gripped his hand phaser.

The low, moaning sound returned. It rose and fell, stopped for a few seconds, then continued. 

“The pitch sounds like an injury of some kind,” Captain Maxwell said. “Not loneliness or mental distress.”

How could the captain tell?

“Walsh,” Captain Maxwell whispered. “Report to my position.”

Molly scrambled over, the moaning masking the sound of her footsteps. She crouched next to them.

The captain asked Molly if she had her hand phaser and her knife. She did. Then he said, “Janeway, give me your primary weapon. I’ll cover you and Walsh.”

Kathryn passed him the compression phaser rifle. “Cover us for what, sir?”

Captain Maxwell gestured toward the sound. “You’re going to go out there and bring that wounded Cardassian back to our camp.”

Kathryn heard the insects buzzing in her hair. 

She felt her skin prickle in goosebumps. 

Her hands began to shake. 

The captain and Molly were looking at her, waiting for her to say “yes, sir.”

The emotions she had idly wondered would return came roaring back. 

Anger. 

Disgust. 

Fear. 

She couldn’t save a Cardassian. 

She wouldn’t.

“Captain,” she listened to her own voice as if she wasn’t the one speaking, “we don’t know how many Cardies are out there. This could be a trap. They’ll kill us. Or they’ll take us and torture us. Captain, I can’t —”

“Lieutenant, you can and you will.” Captain Maxwell commanded as if he didn’t have leaves in his hair and a uniform that set off clouds of dirt when he walked. “You wanted to be a part of this mission. Starfleet is about protecting life, not ending it. Go prove what Starfleet is about.”

Kathryn stood, shaking. 

Then, she thought better of it and sat back down. 

“Molly,” she said, “If we want to avoid friendly fire, we’d better crawl over there. I don’t think it’s more than a hundred meters. Are you ready?”

Molly got to her hands and knees. 

Sticks and pebbles pressed into their palms. Twigs cracked under their knees. Their knives thudded in their sheaths and their hand phasers bumped against their waists.

Kathryn decided if the Cardies killed her, that would be fine. If they tried to torture her again, she’d kick and scream until they beat her unconscious. When she woke up, she’d do it again. She would try to protect Molly, but Admiral Paris hadn’t been able to help once they were captured, so it would have to come before. The best thing would be to push Molly down and let the Cardies think Molly was dead. Yes, that was a good plan. Kathryn told herself she believed in Starfleet as much as Captain Maxwell did, however, there was duty and there was lunacy. 

But orders were orders, even if the captain had needed to remind her of that. 

Molly’s left hand slipped slightly on some dry leaves but she didn’t fall. Kathryn went headfirst into a spider web and she rubbed her face on one uniform shoulder then the other to get the delicate strings out of her eyes. 

They reached the source of the moaning. A lone Cardassian, his hands pressed against his side, became quiet. He stared at them.

Then, as if the pain came from too deep within him to be silenced, the Cardassian began to cry out again. 

“Are you injured?” Molly asked. 

The Cardassian didn’t reply. Could his universal translator be malfunctioning?

As the ranking officer, Kathryn should have spoken first. She wasn’t upset with Molly, though. What would be the point of being upset?

“We’re here to help,” Kathryn told the Cardassian. 

A choking sound that could have been a laugh came from the Cardassian.

“Help?” he hissed. “You Starfleet butchers been killing us.”

Kathryn’s trigger finger twitched. “In self-defense.” 

The Cardassian closed his eyes. “Starfleet lies. Either kill me or go.”

“Starfleet is about protecting life, not ending it.” Captain Maxwell’s words tumbled out of Kathryn’s mouth. 

“We’ll bring you back to our camp,” Molly added. “Try to treat your injuries.”

The Cardassian’s eyes were still closed. “Do what you wish.”

He was too big to hammock between their arms or sling over their backs. The only option was to drag him by his ankles. 

So they did. 

Kathryn and Molly each grabbed a Cardassian ankle and, waddling backward in squatting positions, pulled the Cardassian to where Captain Maxwell sat waiting for them. He gave his officers a crisp nod, handed Kathryn her compression phaser rifle, and told Molly to take over as lookout. The captain introduced himself to the Cardassian — first and last name, no title or mention of Starfleet or the Federation. 

The Cardassian slowly, haltingly, pulled himself to sitting as well, a hand still pressed to his side. 

“I am Joret Dal,” he said. “I am loyal to the security of Cardassia.”

“We all want peace and security,” Captain Maxwell said. “We’d like to help you with your injury, but I’m afraid I don’t know too much about your anatomy. Do you have any recommendations for me?”

Joret blinked. 

“I believe I have a punctured liver. I was scouting and I fell on a rock that protruded from the ground at a sharp angle.”

“In humans, the most immediate risk from a punctured liver is blood loss. Is it the same for you?”

Joret nodded.

“May we try to stop your bleeding?” Captain Maxwell asked.

Joret nodded again. “Where is your field medic?”

“One of your people killed him,” Kathryn blurted out. Joret turned to her. He had to crane his head upward because she was still standing, and it was clear the effort caused him physical pain. Still, Joret looked Kathryn in the eyes. 

“A Cardassian values justice, order, and loyalty to the government above all else. A Cardassian would never purposefully commit such a war crime.”

Kathryn wanted to cross her arms, but her compression phaser rifle was in her hands. She held it tightly. There was no way she would let this Cardie kill her captain.

Captain Maxwell interjected, “Our team’s medic did die at the hands of one of your comrades. But let’s focus on what we can do for you. I’m better with a computer console than I am with a medkit, but I’ll help if you’ll let me.”

Joret agreed and the captain unfastened the top of the Cardassian military uniform. The way Captain Maxwell tucked Joret’s arm through the sleeve of his shirt and then carefully pulled the garment over his head reminded Kathryn that the captain had children. 

Children most likely killed by Cardassians. Maybe even this one. 

“I see the rock,” the captain said. There was a gash in Joret’s side with brown blood weeping around it. “In humans, removing the foreign body can make bleeding worse, is that true for you?”

“Yes.” Joret winced. 

Captain Maxwell crawled so he was in front of Joret. “As I see it, we have two options. We can leave that rock there and hope your bleeding slows. Or, I can remove it and try to cauterize the blood vessels with my phaser on a low setting.”

Joret hesitated. Then he said, “Please, remove it.”

Joret had a small palm beacon and he handed it to Kathryn. She had no choice but to holster her compression phaser rifle, crouch, and shine light into the injured area. Captain Maxwell adjusted his phaser setting and narrated what he did as he did it. When he finished, he handed Joret the rock. “Practically a triangle,” the captain said. “Must’ve hurt like hell.”

“Thank you,” Joret said, his breaths becoming deeper and easier. “What happens to me now?”

“If you feel up to it, you can go,” Captain Maxwell said. “If not, you’re welcome to rest here until you want to leave.”

Joret’s eyes flicked from Captain Maxwell to Kathryn. She handed him his palm beacon and didn’t unholster her compression phaser rifle.

“Why have you set up a dampening field?” Joret asked Captain Maxwell. “All we want to do is leave and we can’t get back to our ship. When our people tried to disable the field weeks ago, it only intensified.”

“Starfleet didn’t set up a dampening field,” Captain Maxwell said. “We want to leave, too.”

Joret slowly pulled the top of his uniform back on. Captain Maxwell offered his hand and they stood together. Kathryn stood, too. 

“The dampening field is weakest in the northwest corner of the settlement, the area where your shuttles took off.” Joret spoke quickly, his voice low. “We think their ride through the atmosphere somehow disrupted it.”

“Thank you.” Captain Maxwell inclined his head.

Joret inclined his head as well, walked backwards a few steps, then crawled away in the direction he’d come from. 

“Janeway, Walsh — nice work,” Captain Maxwell said. “Perhaps Starfleet has made a friend today.”

Kathryn looked at the impression left in the dirt from where Joret had sat. A Cardie … a Cardassian … as a friend? 

“And,” the captain added, “he may have given us the key to getting out of here.”

***

The plan was to get to the disrupted part of the dampening field and call for help. It wasn’t a very good plan, but it was all they had. 

“I’ve tinkered with my commbadge to the point where it should be able to hail any ship in the sector,” Captain Maxwell said. “If that dampening field has a weakness, I have to believe we’ll get through to someone.”

There was no point in telling the captain it could be a trap, that Joret could have lied to them. Besides, Kathryn trusted Joret. She had watched his body relax when Captain Maxwell eased his suffering. If there was a heart beating inside Joret, he’d told the truth. 

If. 

“I want all our people there for potential transport or to meet a shuttle. Anyone left behind would be an easy target, so we have to rally every _Rutledge _crewmember and we have to do it quickly without the Cardassians knowing what’s going on,” the captain said. “Suggestions?”

“I have one, sir,” Molly said. 

She outlined her plan. The captain swallowed hard and gave a curt nod. Miles was still blinking off the interruption to his sleep, but he and Kathryn exchanged a look. Molly’s idea was perfect. 

“The three of you get some rest,” Captain Maxwell said. “We’ll break camp first thing in the morning.”

***

The trees were too thick to see dawn of the binary suns, but the captain woke them as light was just starting to grow brighter over their heads. 

Miles would be in front, armed and shouldering his tactical pack. Kathryn and Molly would be back to back behind him with their compression phaser rifles drawn and ready. Other _Rutledge _crewmembers, if they followed their training, would fall in line. The captain would bring up the rear. 

Captain Maxwell gave the order to begin. 

They started to move.

Molly sang, her voice echoing off the trees, “_The minstrel boy to the war has gone._”

Miles harmonized, “_In the ranks of death you will find him._”

Captain Maxwell joined in, “_His father's sword he hath girded on._”

Kathryn added to their volume, “_And his wild harp slung behind him._”

Filthy faces peeked out from behind rocks and tree trunks. 

Their four-person team became six.

_“The minstrel boy to the war has gone.” _Eight.

_“In the ranks of death you will find him.” _Ten.

_“His father's sword he hath girded on.” _Twelve.

_“And his wild harp slung behind him.” _Fourteen. 

They kept singing. Like a caterpillar with Miles for a head, soldiers back to back as the body, and their captain as the rear, they made their way over tree roots, rocks, and brush. When they emerged from the woods, their uniforms and the skin underneath nicked by thorns, they stepped into the area where they had watched grenades destroy their shuttles. 

The ground was ash. 

“Why haven’t the Cardassians fired on us?” a crewman asked. 

No one had an answer. 

The captain tapped his commbadge. “This is Captain Benjamin Maxwell to any Federation ship. Members of my crew and I are stranded on Setlik III and are in need of immediate assistance. Please respond.”

The commbadge crackled. 

There was a burst of static. 

Then came the unmistakable sound of a ship shuddering under enemy fire. 

“This is the _Rutledge_. Glad to hear your voice, sir!”

Captain Maxwell looked to the sky, blinking, the heel of his hand on his forehead. Kathryn willed herself to keep standing. Her knees wanted to buckle.

The captain asked if the ship could transport them through the dampening field. Negative, transporter sub-systems had been damaged during the weeks-long firefight the _Rutledge_ had been engaged in with Cardassian ships. The _Yorktown _was assisting, but both ships had been battered by enemy weapons. 

He asked about shuttles, but shuttles had been attempted and every one had been shot down by the Cardassians.

“O’Brien!” Maxwell shouted. “Can you get that field transporter operational?”

“Yes, sir!” Miles pulled the field transporter and three pattern enhancers from his pack.

The _Rutledge_ would be able to stand by for ten minutes before having to retreat out of transporter range. The ship would drop shields on the captain’s order. 

Captain Maxwell assigned tasks, then added, “Let’s move!”

Nine minutes. 

Kathryn and Molly grabbed the first pattern enhancer while other officers took the second and third. All three would form the perimeter essential for transport through the weakened dampening field. 

Eight minutes. 

Miles cursed as the field transporter refused to accept his commands. He opened the panel to access the circuitry. Kathryn and Molly set up the tripod legs of their pattern enhancer. Molly tapped to power it up.

Seven minutes. 

“Sir,” Molly called to Captain Maxwell. “This pattern enhancer is drained of power.”

Molly asked permission to modify her phaser to charge the pattern enhancer’s power cell. The captain granted it. 

Miles shifted circuits to correct a problem with the field transporter’s targeting scanners.

Kathryn kept one eye on Molly and another on the woods. She pulled her hand phaser from its holster.

Six minutes. 

“Captain!” Kathryn yelled. “Cardassians incoming.”

His head and a shoulder visible from behind a tree in the woods, a Cardassian scout called behind him for soldiers to attack the Starfleet crew.

Molly’s phaser hummed as it transferred power.

Five minutes. 

“How’s it coming, O’Brien?”

“Still attempting to calibrate for transport, Captain.”

_Rutledge_ crew members fired back at two Cardassians, then four. Kathryn flicked her phaser setting to stun. She shot a Cardassian in the shoulder. He fell. 

Four minutes. 

“It’s not charging fast enough.” Molly tapped at her phaser. “Increasing power transfer rate.”

At least five Cardassians were firing from the woods. _Rutledge_ crew members returned fire.

Three minutes. 

“Nearly there,” Miles said, easing components into place. “Nearly there.”

“Nearly there,” Molly said, her phaser beginning to whine. “Nearly there.”

Cardassians sprinted from the woods toward the Starfleet crew, shooting as they ran. Kathryn took down one and other crew members took down three more.

Two minutes. 

“Stand by.” Miles snapped the panel closed. “I’ve got it.”

Cardassians were headed for them, weapons firing. _Rutledge _crew shot back.

One minute. 

“Ready, sir.” Miles tapped at the field transporter. “As soon as the pattern enhancers connect, we’re set to go.”

Captain Maxwell ordered his crew to crowd within the pattern enhancers. He told the _Rutledge _to drop shields. Kathryn couldn’t see Miles, but she could see Molly. The ensign was tapping at her phaser. Its whine intensified. The captain must have recognized the sound.

“You’re transferring power too fast,” the captain shouted to be heard over Cardassian weapons fire. “Slow it down, Walsh.”

“No, sir,” Molly said, her eyes on her phaser’s steady beam into the pattern enhancer. “This is the only way.” 

The pattern enhancers buzzed, their readiness indicators lit up purple, and a thin blue light sprung out to connect them in a triangle around the fourteen _Rutledge_ crew members. 

Then Molly’s overloaded phaser exploded in her hands, leaving thirteen _Rutledge_ crew members to beam off Setlik III and collapse onto the deck plating of their ship’s cargo bay.


	5. Chapter 5

Sickbay processed combat teams, treating them for injuries as well as for dehydration and malnutrition. The rough transport that had knocked them all out left their vision blurred and their fingers and toes tingling. The doctor said the symptoms would wear off in a few days. 

“You’re released to quarters,” the doctor told each of them in turn. “We’ll talk later about getting back to duty.”

Everyone had nodded except for Captain Maxwell. He walked out of sickbay and reported to the bridge, scraggly beard and all.

It took him two days to convince the Cardassian ships to break off their attacks. His scans confirmed the planet’s malfunctioning defense system was responsible for the dampening field. He ordered the low-flying satellite destroyed. 

The captain offered the Cardassians safe passage to send shuttles to retrieve their soldiers in exchange for the same privilege for Starfleet personnel. 

But there were no humans left on Setlik III. 

The _Rutledge _and the _Yorktown _made their way to the nearest starbase. They had been fighting, together and apart, up to nine Cardassian ships at a time. Their hulls were crisscrossed with burn marks. The _Kyushu _had been en route to assist in battle, but would instead contribute personnel to repair efforts.

Kathryn spent time in her quarters, alone. The underlying hum of technology grated on her ears. When she’d woken up in sickbay wearing a blue gown, she’d been clean from the dirt and ash of Setlik III. Even the creases of skin around her fingernails had been pink and perfect. Still, she’d stood under the warm water of her shower and shampooed her hair and scrubbed her body. Then she did it again. And again. She shaved her legs and under her arms and gave brief thought to shaving her head. Kathryn showered for hours each day. 

She decided the rough transport must have had a side effect of some kind of mental fuzziness. That had to be the reason she found it so hard to keep a coherent thought in her brain.

She ignored messages from the ship’s counselor and from her friends who had been onboard during the fighting. 

She sat at her computer terminal and sent her mother a text-only communique: _The ship has been on radio silence. I’ll tell you more when I can. _

When she finally left her quarters to walk the corridors, people didn’t look at each other. 

The rec room was empty.

It was lunchtime, so Kathryn joined Miles at a table in the mess hall. He was clean-shaven and his hair was trimmed. Her hairpins were in place. Their uniforms were pristine and their boots shined. They didn’t speak. They were at a table for four and no one filled the two empty seats.

The captain addressed the entire crew. His voice went over the comm system and his image was projected onto viewscreens and consoles. Like Miles, his beard was gone and his hair looked the way it had before their time in the woods. He spoke of Starfleet ideals and the courage to do what’s right. He said sometimes soldiers have to kill, but only when all other options have failed. He said, with that in mind, he believed his crew comported themselves with valor and decency both on the planet and in space. They would be honored by Starfleet Command.

Everyone knew his family was dead.

The next time Kathryn and Miles sat together in the mess hall, she suggested they make an appointment to talk to the captain. Miles asked why.

“Molly let her phaser overload to save the rest of us,” Kathryn said. “We should go with Captain Maxwell to deliver her next of kin message. Her family should know.”

The captain met with them in his ready room. He denied their request. 

“Why, sir?” Miles asked. 

Captain Maxwell was on one side of his desk. Miles and Kathryn were on the other. The captain spoke stiffly.

“Ensign Walsh didn’t record a next of kin message. She was raised by a grandmother who passed away a few years ago. Her brother was on the _Horatio_ when it was damaged in a firefight with Cardassians last year. He didn’t make it.” 

Miles rubbed his forehead. 

Kathryn looked at the ceiling. 

The captain told them there would be a service in the shuttlebay for everyone who had died on the ship and on the planet, Molly Walsh and Will Kayden included. 

When Miles rose to leave, Kathryn asked for a moment with the captain. She waited for the doors to close behind her friend. 

“Sir,” she said, “I don’t know if you’ve decided whether to put me on report for knifing that Cardassian, but I hereby request that you do.”

The captain looked at her for a long moment.

“No,” he said. 

“Why not, sir?”

The captain told Kathryn that she was right, she wouldn’t have had time to unholster, aim, and fire her phaser. She’d made the correct choice.

She told the captain that she made the choice for the wrong reasons. She’d hurt the Cardassian out of long-contained anger for something that didn’t have to do with that particular fight. She wanted to be put on report, denied her promotion, maybe even be kicked out of Starfleet for her behavior. She was not fit to be an officer.

The captain looked Kathryn in the eye and told her everything she said confirmed she belonged in Starfleet.

“The _Billings_ will be fortunate to have you, Lieutenant,” he added. 

She thought she was dismissed and was about to stand when Captain Maxwell asked Kathryn what made her reconsider what she had done. “Joret Dal,” she said. “I nearly disobeyed your order. I thought you were crazy.”

The captain leaned forward. “The secret, Janeway, is so did I. But, we needed to try. Sometimes, a single act of compassion can put us in touch with our own humanity.”

“Yes, sir,” she agreed. “Thank you, sir.”

***

In her quarters again, Kathryn began to pack her things into storage containers. The captain of the _Billings_ had sent her a message the day before saying he’d held her post. Kathryn would be a lieutenant commander on his ship whenever she was ready.

Her civilian shoes went in first. Sandals, strappy heels, flats. Then went her civilian clothes. Dresses, skirts, blouses. She started to fold spare uniforms, then stopped and stared at the red fabric. The arm of the Starfleet uniform wasn’t that different from the arm of a Cardassian uniform — a length of cloth for an appendage. The captain had eased Joret Dal’s arm out of a Cardassian uniform so the captain could prove Starfleet ideals. The captain was brave and compassionate. The captain didn’t let fear or anger destroy his humanity.

_Ideas need energy to come to fruition and that means being present._

That’s what Mark had said and she had steamrolled over him, insisting a computer terminal was a good enough way to communicate.

Perhaps they both could be correct.

Kathryn checked the chronometer. She did the math in her head. It would be 1900 hours at Mark’s apartment in Curitiba. 

She went to her bathroom mirror to smooth her hair and touch up her lipstick. 

Her hands shook when she logged into her computer terminal. She placed the comm call on a personal frequency.

Kathryn almost hoped Mark wouldn’t be home. But then where would he be? Playing tennis with friends? Out to dinner with a new girlfriend? Reading a book at the park only to look up and notice a beautiful woman on a park bench reading the same book?

“Kath, my God, what happened to you?”

His shock of dark hair. 

His kind eyes. 

Her fingers went to the screen.

“It’s been a bad few weeks. Can we talk?”

She told him she was wrong to have assumed he could do his job from anywhere and she shouldn’t have argued when he said he couldn’t. He said he was wrong to have gotten so angry and he should have told her before how not being in Starfleet always made him feel less-than in her eyes. She said he could never be less-than. She told him she believed in Starfleet but she knew how vital it was to believe in something and she respected how important philosophy was to him — was to her, too, as she saw how Starfleet philosophy was one thing in theory and another thing face-to-face, in action. 

She asked if they could try again.

He said he’d commed her three times to ask the same thing, but a Starfleet security warning had lit up his screen every time.

She said she’d be back on Earth in a few days.

He said he’d be waiting for her.

***

In Irish wake tradition, the shuttlebay service featured flowing synthehol whiskey, poem recitations, a symbolic casket, and impromptu songs. After a group sang _The Minstrel Boy_, Miles raised his whiskey glass.

“My best friend loved that song and a dear friend who saved my life sang it as her last rallying cry. I mourn them both.”

He gulped the whiskey, then handed the empty glass to the crewmember next to him. Miles’ face dipped into his hands and his shoulders shook. 

When Miles and Kathryn walked out of the shuttlebay together, he shared two pieces of news with her. He said he’d been promoted to senior tactical officer on the _Rutledge_ and he said Will’s family would be participating in Starfleet Medical’s annual remembrance for doctors and nurses who lost their lives in the line of duty. They planned to take part every year. 

Kathryn congratulated Miles on his promotion and told him about her own. He was happy for her, but sad to see her leave the ship. They were in the turbolift when she crossed her arms and said, “Stompie will be remembered by his family. But what about Molly? She didn’t have any family. She saved our lives and eleven others. What happens to her memory?”

Miles said they would think of something, he was sure of it. Then he redirected the turbolift. Kathryn looked at him questioningly. 

“We get to the starbase in an hour.” Miles grinned. “I owe you a game of pool, don’t I?”

Miles racked the balls while Kathryn got the cues. He broke and called stripes. She won on a tricky corner shot and they agreed to stay in touch, no matter where their assignments took them. 

**Epilogue**

Captain Kathryn Janeway rang the chime, fingers on the other hand wrapped around the strap of a Starfleet duffel bag on her shoulder.

The door opened. 

“Hairpins!”

“Songbird!”

Miles and Kathryn hugged with the embrace of friends who hadn’t seen each other in person in a decade. 

“Welcome to Deep Space Nine.” Miles stepped aside so she could walk into the quarters he shared with his wife and daughter. “How long are you here for?”

“_Voyager_ leaves in the morning for the Badlands.” She followed him to a sitting area. “It’s a short mission, so I hope we can visit again soon. But I couldn’t miss this chance tonight.”

He asked if potato casserole would be all right for dinner. She said it would be fine. They chatted about postings and friends in common; about Mark; and about Miles’ wife, Keiko. They didn’t talk about Captain Maxwell. They had said everything they needed to say about that over subspace. Miles and Kathryn both believed their former captain had the correct information when he attacked Cardassian vessels without permission three years before. He had put peace ahead of procedure. Neither had the heart to fault him for that.

“Daddy!” Miles’ daughter ran in, her mother right behind her. Miles scooped up his little girl and introduced Kathryn and Keiko. Kathryn said she was delighted to meet Keiko after hearing so much about her. Keiko said she felt the same way about Kathryn.

“I hope to meet your husband next time,” Keiko added. Kathryn didn’t correct her. People often assumed she and Mark were married. They would do the paperwork sooner or later.

“And this,” Miles said to Kathryn, his daughter in his arms, “is Molly.”

“Hello, Molly,” Kathryn patted the little girl’s hand. “I’m pleased to meet you. I want to show you something.”

Kathryn crouched and unzipped her duffel bag. She pulled out a photograph. “This is my Molly.” 

“A doggie!” Molly O’Brien said. “With my name.”

Keiko said she would replicate dinner. “Please wait,” Miles said. “I want you to hear this, too.”

Miles sat, Molly on his lap. Keiko put her arm around Miles’ back. Kathryn placed the picture of herself, Mark, and their Molly on the coffee table where the O’Briens could see it. Then she sat with the family. 

“Molly,” Kathryn said, “your daddy and I want to tell you about someone named Molly Walsh. She was brave and smart and kind and always thought of others. She was a hero and she was our friend.”

“And,” Miles added, “we won’t let her be forgotten.”


End file.
